Neutral
by RegretfulDragon
Summary: AU-For the first time in months, he felt himself relax. In the end, life together as neutrals roaming space was a lot better than waiting to die on a forsaken world. TBC-started as a request. Rating will go up with later chapters.
1. In The End

A/N: This was a request made by shamanking11 over on DA. Request was 'prowlxbee angst fic dealing with death'. Nothing more than that so I took the idea and ran with it. But now. Thanks to the muse feedings of one my dear friends, aerinsol-again on DA-, this is going to turn into it's own AU series. I have other requests I have to finish firsts so don't be surprised if this doesn't get updated for awhile. For now, this is all there will be. I will get back to it don't worry. 8D

Enjoy! Read and review. Constructive Crit is welcome! Flames will be laughed with WavvyTheFur and DreamStoryWeaver.

_Warning: TONS of character death. Read at own risk._

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**_In The End_**

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In the end, all they had was each other and all they could do was run.

Reflecting back on the last few months, maybe it was better that Sari and her father had died in the first attacks. Megatron had taken Starscream completely offline, stealing the Allspark fragment from his forehead and sent the clones, knowing about their little bomb secret. Jazz and Prowl had been unable to protect the city, and Jazz, selfless mech that he was, used whatever power he had to transport Prowl and Optimus out of the blast range. Jazz and every human in Detriot was gone in a flash of light.

It had been a terrible blow to Sari, to lose her father as she had, but she was determined to avenge him. After Detroit, Megatron set his sights on the rest of the planet, looking to conquer it and use it for its energy resources. The first planned attack was Washington. They'd tried to stop him, but he had the majority of the Allspark and had regained control of Omega Supreme.

Sari was lost in the crossfire, hit by one of the missiles from the great weapon. Prowl didn't think he'd ever seen Bumblebee so upset, but he tried to comfort him by saying she was reunited with her father. It worked to an extent, but the yellow mech was never quite the same.

As the Decepticons continued their attacks, Cybertron tried to lend assistance sending several mechs from the Elite Guard to help. He'd lost count of the number of good bots that had gone offline, though he did remember some names. Brawn, Ironhide, Rodimus, a scientist named Skyfire, even Jetfire and Jetstorm who High Command thought would have an advantage, being flying Autobots. Countless other mechs with no names that Prowl had never met but knew went offline trying to stop this madness.

Every city the Decepticons hit, mechs were lost, good mechs with good lives. Femmes were captured, never killed, and Prowl shuddered to think of their fates now. Eventually, their own team began to fall. Bulkhead went out defending them all. Ratchet was executed trying to sneak into a Decepticon base to free Arcee. Optimus took a fatal hit from Megatron's fusion cannon, and Prowl and Bumblebee just managed to drag him away from the fight before his spark flared out. With only the two of them left, they did the only sensible thing they could think of: they ran, far from the current Decepticon base.

Survival was the only thing on their processors from that point on.

They raided former oil rigs for whatever was left, hid in long abandoned buildings often with one or two human survivors who would beg for the their help. Prowl hated to tell them they were better off on their own, that they were likely the only two Autobots left on the planet, and that their own team had fallen to Decepticons. He hated to tell them that because although it was true, it killed whatever hope they had and many suicides took place in the middle of the night.

Bumblebee was beginning to lose his processor. He was young, and he'd never had to deal with so much death in such a short amount of time. He was often silent and would stare off into the distance, at the blood-red skies that had become the norm. Prowl did what he could to keep him sane, but the most he could do was offer comfort and treat whatever wounds they had. He'd had the foresight to learn what he could from Ratchet before the medic was killed, and it saved their skidplates plenty of times.

Their current hide-out was an old musuem in the state once known as New York. The Decepticons were on the other side of the country, getting ready to start their attacks on continents across the Pacific Ocean. They didn't stand a chance. All the humans nuclear weapons couldn't hold a candle to the amount of firepower the Decepticons were carrying.

Prowl sighed, grimancing as his ventilations struggled to recycle air properly. Leaning against him, Bumblebee was staring blankly at the floor, the only sound he made that of his own tired and worn systems. The cyberninja took in their conditions and calculated their chances of getting any farther. What he knew of medicine certainly helped, but it didn't fix everything. More intricate circuit relays that had been damaged couldn't be helped, and it was leading to dead limbs.

One of Bumblebee's legs was turning a dull yellow, showing that limb was going useless. Prowl himself was losing feeling in his right leg, and he could swear his digits were getting numb. Their next destination had been Pennslyvania, but as it was, they didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, as the expression went, of even getting to the state line. They were slagged, and he knew it.

"Prowl," Bumblebee's hoarse voice broke the silence. Said mech looked down at the only companion he had left, feeling a spark of worry to see pale optics looking back at him. Bumblebee was in bad shape, they both were, but chances were the scout would go before him He didn't think he could handle another death.

"Yes, Bumblebee?"

"There's something I wanna tell you, in case we don't get any help soon," A pang of guilt shot through Prowl's systems. He'd been keeping their hopes and spirits alive with the promises they'd get off this dying planet, but they both knew Cybretron had stopped sending help, stopped sending ships when the Decepticons got a hold of them. They were stranded with no chances of help from anyone.

"What is it?" Prowl asked, automatically wrapping one arm around his shoulders. The scout scooted closer to him, slowly wrapping his arm around Prowl's middle.

"I...I love you." He murmured, as though he were afraid to admit it but figured he had nothing to lose. Bumblebee fell into an uneasy recharge with his faceplate buried in Prowl's chassis before the older mech had a chance to reply. Prowl was in shock, not from Bumblebee's confession, but from his realization of what exactly was keeping him sane. Where he would he be without the yellow scout? He might not have admitted it but keeping the younger alive, caring for him as he had all these months, and making sure they had somewhere safe to stay every night had given him a reason to keep living. He, apparently, had also given the small yellow mech a reason to keep fighting and keep going.

Now, they were both in danger of deactivating.

_'Like hell I'm going to let that happen.'_ Prowl checked the frequencies to see which ones were still active, looking for one in particular. He almost sighed in relief to find the damned mech still alive and nearby. He opened a transmission frequency, hoping to be answered.

He was rewarded with a familiar, low cracking voice, **:Well, well. Prowl. Been awhile, kid:**

"Forget pleasantries, Lockdown. Remember that offer you made me? I've reconsidered." He could almost see the triumphant grin on the bounty hunter's faceplate.

**:Bout time. Been needin' some extra help, and I know you'll make a greaty bounty hunter:**

"There's a condition." There was a whole two kliks of silence before Lockdown spoke again, his tone suspicious.

**:What kind of condition?:**

"I need a medic, a damn good one. Know anyone?"

**:Yeah, I believe I've got just the one. But that's gonna cost ya:** Prowl had expected that, but he still couldn't help the sigh. He didn't have any credits, nothing of real value to trade, nothing except...

"I've still got the mods I took from you last time. It's all I've got." More silence as the bounty hunter considered his offer.

**:Throw in ol' Master Yoketron's helmet, and it's a deal:** Prowl almost said no, but he looked to his right at the sleeping, slowly dying bot beside him. He needed help, they both did. His master could forgive him for this.

"Deal."

Hours later, they were on Lockdown's ship, heading away from Earth. He'd been disgruntled to learn that Prowl had used the old offer as an excuse for a rescue, but when he kept to his deal and gave him the mods and helmet, he hadn't argued and showed him where he could put Bumblebee until they reached a medic. Prowl had watched the Earth shrink into the distance the further they got from it, and for the first time in months, he felt himself relax.

In the end, life together as neutrals roaming space was a lot better than waiting to die on a forsaken world.


	2. New Life

A/N: Went ahead and typed a second chapter for you all. It's short, it's cute, it may or may not rot your teeth with fluff.

Review please. It's all I ask. Constructive Crit. only.

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"...ration success..."

_'Where am I?'_

"Patient...stable..."

_'Who is that?'_

"...blebee...wake up..."

_'Prowl?'_

Bumblebee tried to open his optics but shut them at the blinding white light assaulting him.

_'I'm offline, aren't I? This is the Well, and Prowl's here, too. We died on the cursed rock.'_

"Bumblebee, wake up. Please." Prowl's voice came clear through the fog, and it wasn't the only thing he could hear. Beeps and whirs of machines, distant voices, and hurried pede-falls. Where the frag was he?

Forcing his optics back online, Bumblebee's vision was unfocused and blurred, the white light above him nearly enough to force him to shutter his optics again. A face swam into his view, and it took a few moments for his optics to readjust to the lighting conditions before he recognized it.

"Pr...Prowl?" The cyberninja smiled in relief and nodded. Bumblebee tried to move his head, to look at his surroundings, but the exhaustion of the last few months had taken its toll.

"Don't move too much. The docor says it's going take some time for your strength to build up. Until then, you're on bedrest." Confusion crossed Bumblebee's faceplate.

"Doctor? You mean this is a hospital?" He heard Prowl chuckle and tried to glare but all he managed was a look of annoyance.

"Sort of. More like a clinic. Where did you think you were?"

"The Well." Bumblebee dead-panned, expression as serious as it could get. Prowl's optics widened behind his visor, remembering the last thing the scout had said to him on Earth. They'd both been so sure they were going to die there like all of their friends. Of course, he didn't know what had happened after his confession.

"We're on Paradron. It's a pacifist refugee planet that was settled back during the Great War. Our medic is a former Autobot named First Aid." Prowl explained, moving so that he was a little closer to the berth. When they'd arrived on the planet, he'd insisted on Bumblebee being treated first and refused any treatment for himself until he knew the scout would be okay. Compared to the damage Bumblebee had taken, Prowl knew his own wounds wouldn't take more than a cycle to fix.

Bumblebee looked better than he had, his armour clean and smooth, free of the dents and gashes and mediorce repairs. His optics had regained their normal, healthy baby-blue color. The scout could feel his leg again, his systems were fully operational, and his intakes no longer struggled to cycle air. Prowl himself looked and felt like he had just stepped off the assembly line. Everything was working perfectly.

"Well, that's nice and all, Prowl, but how did we get here?"

Prowl sighed and looked away for a moment, "I called in a favor." He turned back to Bumblebee, seeing the questioning look he was getting, " I know I should have done it a long time ago, but to be honest, I didn't think the bot was still functioning." His optics softened, and he gave the other a warm, reassuring smile, "But I wasn't about to let you die on that planet. And Bumblebee?"

The yellow mech lifted his head as much as he was able to get a better look at Prowl, "Yeah?" It happened in a moment. Prowl's suddenly covered his own, a gentle, tender kiss that said more than he could have hope for. He remembered admitting to Prowl on Earth that he loved him, but he hadn't expected the feeling to be reciprocated.

When Prowl broke their kiss, he didn't pull away, faceplate inches from Bumblebee's own, loving optics locked with his suprised ones.

"I love you, too." The yellow mech could have leapt for joy at the motorcycle's words had he not been so weak. Instead, he leaned up to capture Prowl's parted lips in another kiss, elation filling his very spark and, for a moment, allowing him to forget all the Pit-fire, pain, and loss they'd gone through.

Until a rough, low drawl interrupted them, bringing them back to the present and reality, "Well, ain't that sweet. It could almost warm a Decepticon's spark."

Prowl sighed in irritaton, turing his annoyed stare to the bounty hunter standing in the doorway, "You have the worst timing and a horrible way with words, Lockdown." Bumblebee's optics widened to see the black and white faced mech. The last time he'd encountered the muscle car, he'd tried to steal the scout's stingers for his mod collection.

Lockdown only shrugged, unfazed by what he assumed was insult from the cyberninja, "First rule of the business, kid: don't hold grudges. They interferre with work."

"Business? Work? Prowl, what the frag is he talking about?"

The bounty hunter smirked in amusement, "Oh, so lover-bot here hasn't told ya?" Prowl glared at Lockdown while Bumblebee continued to stare in confusion.

"Mute your vocalizer, Lockdown. I'll tell him," He turned to meet Bumblebee's questioning gaze and sighed, "After you blacked out, I called for a rescue though I told him I'd reconsidered his offer of being his partner. I traded the mods and Master Yoketron's helmet as payment for transport to a medic. We work with Lockdown from now on, Bumblebee."

An awkward silence filled the room after Prowl confessed the story of how he'd gotten them off Earth. The cyberninja waited patiently for Bumblebee's reaction, the scout's faceplate blank as he mulled over the story and their situation now in his processor, noticing for the first time the absence of the extra armour and helmet now that Prowl had mentioned it.

Finally, the tired mech cracked a smile, "Well, why the slag didn't you do that sooner?" Prowl tilted his helm in the gesture of an optic-roll and smiled. _'At least, he's not changed completely.' _He been worried that their experiences on Earth would change them beyond recognition, and to an extent, they had, but Bumblebee's remark proved that they were still the same underneath it all.

Behind him, Prowl heard Lockdown chuckling, the sound entirely good-natured. "I think I'm gonna like this kid." Neither one could help it. Both Prowl and Bumblebee laughed, relaxing and settling into their new reality. This was their life now, and they were going to make the best of it.


	3. Unease

A/N: Sorry to keep you all waiting. The next chapter to Fragile will hopefully get done soon, but I'm still working on requests. They be eating me alive.

Enjoy and review. Constructive criticism only. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. X3

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When the peace with his new life wore off, a grudging unease settled into Bumblebee's processor. After his release from the hospital, they had only stayed on Paradron long enough for Lockdown to procur some extra supplies and other things now that he had two permanent additions to his ship before they left the refugee planet and headed off to his next job. Since they were the 'new recruits', he didn't want them to accompany him and preferred that they stay on ship.

Which gave Prowl plenty of time to talk to the troubled beetle. It wasn't hard to see that Bumblebee wasn't comfortable with their living arrangement or the roaming hell their life had become. He had seemed fine with it at first, but that might've been because of the overwhelming exhaustion and relief to be online at all. Now that they were actually here, the scout's perspective had taken a complete turnaround.

Prowl found Bumblebee in their near-barren room, sitting up on their berth-about the only piece of funiture in the old room beside the chair and wobbly desk- and staring out the scratched and dusty window. The planet looked peaceful, but it reminded him too much of Earth before the Decepticon take-over, and it stung his spark to think of what had become of it. Prowl cast his glance over the room, noting once again how much work was going to have to go into it before it even felt like home.

Of course, it would never feel like _their_ home. Home was destroyed. Home had been killed one by one. Home had gone up in flames. Home had been washed in blood and energon, and there was nothing he could do to take those memories away. The screams, the explosions, the constant scent of death and decay.

Shuddering at the sudden onslaught of bad memories, Prowl vented a sigh and walked over to the berth, sitting on the edge, and placing his servo on Bumblebee's knee. The scout didn't acknowledge his presence though Prowl did see his optics flicker for a moment. Perhaps he was reliving the same thing he was.

When the silence started to become unbearable, Prowl finally found it in himself to speak up and get the other to talk.

"Bumblebee-"

"I hate this." The utter contempt in the mech's tone surprised the cyberninja. He'd known Bumblebee didn't like living this way, but what choice did they have? He'd never expected the yellow mech to hold such strong feelings towards it though. Bumblebee turned to look at him, his expression a mix of anxiety and contempt. "I really hate this, Prowl. I wish we'd stayed on Paradron."

Prowl sighed and drew the little mech into him, Bumblebee letting himself be hugged and burying his faceplate into Prowl's chassis. The idea of staying there had only crossed Prowl's meta after they'd left the planet's atmosphere, and it was too late to turn back.

"I know. I'm sorry for getting you into this, Bumblebee."

"All my life, all I ever wanted was to get into the Elite Guard and prove I'm not some useless bumbler. Now that Cybertron's likely going to get taken over, too, that's never gonna happen." Bumblebee shuttered his optics tight, his servos balled up and shaking with barely suppressed rage and regret. One uncurled itself and ran over the blackened area on his chassis where there had once been a red badge of his alliance. "Now, we're neutrals, stuck with some Primus-damned bounty hunter, and _everything_ is _gone_."

The minibot choked on the last word and began clicking, low sounds that were just audible in the silent room. Prowl let him cry, rubbed his back and whispered apologies even though there was no real reason for them, not on his part anyway. Blame rested with the Decepticons, and it would be a cold day in the Pit if Megatron thought he was going to get away with it. It was part of the reason he'd agreed to travel with Lockdown and train as a bountry hunter.

Cyberninja training and skills would only get him so far. If he really wanted to take Megatron down, Prowl was going to have to learn how to fight dirty and get good at it. As far as he was concerned, Lockdown was just the sort of 'teacher' he needed.

Once Bumblebee calmed down, he just sat there in Prowl's lap, a blank stare fixed on the cracked and warped floor. For all its size and weaponry, the Death Head wasn't the best looking ship. He felt Prowl's servo on his back, rubbing slow circles, and tried not to let his faceplates heat up too much. He was still getting used to the fact that the ninjabot loved him as well.

"Not everything is gone, Bumblebee," Prowl started slowly, carefully planning how to say his next words and hoping he didn't sound too much like those cheap novels he'd seen Sari read a long time ago, "We still have each other, and at this point, that's all I can ask for." A tiny twitch of his mouth, and Bumblebee gave him a small smile, looking up to his face with grateful optics. At least Prowl was trying to make him feel better.

Leaning up, he caught the ninja's parted lips with his own. Bumblebee couldn't quite get over how wonderful it felt to be with Prowl like this. He'd admired him for a long time-before the attacks-, but it wasn't until they were constantly having to watch each other's backs, dragging themselves from place to place, and with Prowl taking care of him, that he'd begun to feel more than admiration.

Prowl had saved him, and to some degree, some of the affection was a bit of hero worship and general gratefulness, but he also could have left Bumblebee to die at any time and had chosen to stay. It was hard not to love the quiet mech, and here alone, it was easy to forget there was a world outside of the tiny, not-so-tidy room.

"If you two are going to frag each other, I'd appreciate you not doing it while we have a guest." For what felt like the hundrenth time, Prowl and Bumblebee aburptly broke away from each other and looked towards their doorway. Lockdown was there with his arms crossed, a small, smug smirk on his faceplate.

Behind him, there was a tan and purple mech not that much taller than Prowl with large purple optics and a way of carrying himself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how the universe worked and how to make his way in it.

"Hey, hey, Lockdown," He started in the unmistakable tone of a salesman, "No need to deny them their basic needs. Just let me set up a bit of equipment, and we could make quite a profit." The next astrosecond, the newcomer found himself dodging one of Prowl's shuriken while Bumblebee's faceplates heated to a bright scarlet.

"Are your guests usually so perverted, Lockdown?" The cyberninja growled, catching the golden star as it boomeranged back to him. The bounty hunter chuckled and shook his helm.

"Doesn't matter what it is. If Swindle can make a profit off it, then it's business for him. Perversion has nothing to do with it." The mech known as Swindle offered Prowl what was obviously a practiced smile, one he no doubt used on regular and potential customers.

"It's just the nature of the business world. Nothing personal you understand?" He was rewarded with a glare that quite loudly declared 'No fragging way', and he quickly steered the conversation to why he was here. "Anyway, less talk, more business. Time is money, and we are wasting time. So Lockdown, you wanted to see some weapons and mods for these two?"

Both mechs left out the doorway and down the hall, Lockdown ordering the other two to follow. Reluctantly, Prowl and Bumblebee did so, heading to Swindle's ship docked next to them.

"Prowl?"

"Yes?"

"I _really_ hate this."


	4. Mistrust

A/N: It's filler. Not much more than that. Enjoy.

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"I fragging knew it!"

Prowl nearly jumped from his armour when Bumblebee came storming into their room, punching the wall and leaving a dent. He tried not to groan at the slight destruction. It wasn't like it was out of place in the room; it was just another repair to be made.

He caught the scout's smoldering gaze and and asked calmly, "What's the matter?" Bumblebee growled in both irritation and anger, having a hard time controlling himself and keeping from punching the wall again.

"It's that-that fragging salesbot! That Swindle! Don't you remember him?" The yellow mech demanded, throwing his arms up in the air as if it would emphasize his question. Prowl shook his helm, muttering, 'vaguely'. Part of him thought he'd meet the bot once, the parts that could be seen of his alt. form bringing a fuzzy picture to Prowl's meta.

Bumblebee huffed and crossed the room, standing directly in front of him, "He's that arms dealer we ran into on Earth. A _Decepticon_ _Arms_ dealer! Do you know what that means? Weapons he's sold could be the exact same weapons that killed every one we knew!" Finishing his sentence, Bumblebee choked up, and it took everything he had not to break down.

The scout was still having a hard time coming to terms with what they'd been through, but Prowl saw the grief as something of a relief. Bumblebee had spent so many months in silence that he'd feared the yellow bot was going insane.

To see him actually mourning showed that he hadn't lost his mind to all the chaos.

The pieces finally clicking in his processor as to who Swindle was, Prowl actually growled. Surely Lockdown knew this yet he'd still allowed that bot, who would sell out his own creator for the right price and who'd likely given the Decepticons their weapons, to know where they were, that they were traveling with him, that they were the only mechs to survive Megatron's attack.

Gritting his dentals, Prowl weighed the options and possible outcomes of confronting the two bots. Lockdown was a fighter, a dirty fighter, but Prowl knew he could handle him especially since he'd finished his training. However, Swindle was a walking arsenal armed from helm to pede with every weapon imaginable, and if he managed to get caught by surprise, well then, he was as good as slagged.

Getting into a fight with them also came with the distinct possiblity of being jettisoned into space or left on an asteroid, neither a situation he wanted to find themselves in.

Sighing, he rubbed his temple and looked back at Bumblebee who'd regained some self-control and was waiting for his answer. "Even if he did, there's nothing we can do now."

"What?"

"Bumblebee, Lockdown is our only means of survival right now. Do you really want to take the risk of being left in some barren part of space to die?" The yellow mech halted in whatever protest he'd manged to piece together and looked at his pedes resignedly. Sympathetic, Prowl got up from his chair and gently grabbed his shoulders, catching his attention again and forcing him to look up, " I don't trust Swindle either, but if Lockdown wants to work with him, then there's nothing we can say against it."

Bumblebee sighed, nodding, leaning into Prowl as he'd come to do whenever something bothered him though moments like that tended to revolve around bad memories and the want to get rid of them. It would take some time, their escape from Earth having only been less two orbital cycles ago, but eventually, some sense normality would work its way into their lives.

Prowl smiled and rubbed his shoulder, "Besides, with a designation like 'swindle', I'm sure Lockdown has problem with him, too."


	5. Apprentice

A/N: Sorry the update on this is so late. College has been sucking the life out of me. D8 But no worries, I haven't forgotten any of my stories. Fragile hopefully will be updated soon but don't hope too much on that. Midterms are coming up this next week. Joy.

Enjoy!

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Polished, unwarped floors. Walls no longer cracked or sporting dents and deep scratches from years long since past. A table, two chairs, and a desk that no longer wobled, and it all fit in with the relaxing deep blue color that the room had been done in. Even the berth that once had only just been big enough to fit them with hardly any room had been converted into a double wide berth, big enough for them to lay on it comfortablly side by side but not so big it took up any unnecessary space.

"Well, well, _well._ This old room has taken quite a turn around, doll-face." Bumblebee turned from where'd been arranging his little gift to Prowl, a small plant that looked a lot like those bonsai trees from Earth that he'd gotten on the last planet they'd been on to restock, to face the tan and purple mech in the door way, drawing his fusion blaster from underneath the armour guard on his hip. One of the mods he'd gotten from Swindle when they first joined up.

"The _ONLY_ one on this ship who has any right to call me 'doll-face' is Prowl. Don't think I won't shoot you for it either." Swindle's servos immediately flew up over his helm in alarm, purple optics wide as they could get. Which was saying alot.

"Whoa, whoa! Kid, put that down. It may be little, but it packs a heavy punch. It'd punch a hole through my chassis and back without any trouble." Bumblebee hestitated, his servo unnvervingly still while he held the weapon even with Swindle's chassis, with his spark chamber. The temptation to simply shoot the mech and be done with it was enormous but remembering Prowl's words from a few weeks ago, he reluctantly lowered the weapon.

"Don't tempt me." The yellow mech muttered grimly, holstering the sidearm underneath the guard, crossing his arms once he did so and glaring at the salesbot, "What do you want, Swindle?"

"What?" The arms dealer shrugged, lowering his arms once the blaster was out of sight, "Friends can't visit friends on this ship?"

Bumblebee scowled, "You're hardly my friend, Swindle." The salesbot merely shrugged as though the comment hadn't bothered him at all.

"Fair enough." He said cheerily, crossing his arms over his chassis, "Anyway, that's not why I'm really here." Bumblebee's optics narrowed in suspicion while one optic ridge went up in curiousity. "With your lover-bot gone bounty hunter training with Lockdown, I need some help with my wares. You're the only one around so come on."

Bumblebee hesitated, giving him a dubious look. Helping Swindle with his wares? With weapons that could've very well been used to kill his friends, the only family he'd ever known? Another thought crossed his processor, making him shudder at the very idea. What if his friends' weapons were somewhere in there? Optimus' axe, Ratchet's EMP, Bulkhead's wrecking ball. What if he found them among Swindle's collection, priced low enough so that any ranked Decepticon could buy them and use them to kill more?

What Bumblebee wanted to tell the so-called 'former Decepticon' was to frag off and go do it himself, but then he remembered what Prowl had told him about pissing off Lockdown's pal and what it could mean for them. Sighing, Bumblebee reluctantly agreed and followed him down the dark, dreary halls of the Death Head.

Swindle had been staying with them for awhile and would probably be with them still for awhile yet. An old storage room was serving as his personal store on the ship which helped when an occasional customer dropped by and bought a few weapons, putting a little more credits in all of their accounts. But it didn't mean he planned on staying for good.

The tan and purple mech kept an escape ship docked in the small hanger for emergencies while his own ship was docked on the planet where he procurred most of his wares and with mechs even he trusted. That, and there was no doubt any would-be thieves were likely to meet one of several booby-traps if they trespassed on Swindle's personal ship.

For nearly a megacycle, Bumblebee helped Swindle move and rearrange the various weapons and miscellanous items that looked normal but could have been cleverly disguised death traps. He had yet to run across anything that might have looked like they once belonged to his friends, and he counted that a small blessing.

Finally, Swindle broke the silence, straightening up and leaning up against the crates he'd just set down on the floor, "You know, I never forget a pretty face, and something's been bugging me since I got on this ship."

"What?" Bumblebee asked cautiously, still trying to figure out exactly where he was supposed to put this box containing more of Swindle's over-priced weaponry. He heard the pede-steps telling him that the salesbot was coming over, and he tensed when he felt Swindle standing directly behind him. He dropped the box and turned to face him, scowling while one servo hovered over the guard on his hip, ready to draw the fusion blaster should he need it.

"You and I both know that you remember me from Earth," Swindle started almost thoughtfully, keeping an optic on the scout's servo, his own arsenal on stand-by just in case. "I know you can fight. Pit, you're the reason I was stuck in my alt. mode for as long as I was." At that point, Bumblebee switched on his comm., not actually contacting Prowl, but keeping the line open in case he had to call for help.

One of Swindle's optic ridges went up in an arch while his mouth formed a thin line as he spoke again, "Weapons I've sold could be the ones that killed your friends, and here I am, wondering this." He tilted his helm to the side as he asked, "Why didn't you slag me when you had the chance?" The scout honestly hadn't expected that. For a moment, his guard lowered as he considered what Swindle was asking him then, remembering how close the salesmech was, he was instantly on alert again.

"Why does that matter to you?" Swindle shrugged, crossing his arms over his chassis.

"It doesn't really. Either way, I'm still online and in business, but it's out of my curious nature that I ask. I mean, surely you and lover-bot must have some grudge against me."

"Like I told them on Paradron, Swindle," Both mechs turned at the sound of Lockdown's familiar drawl, Prowl right behind him as they entered the storage room. The cyberninja gave Bumblebee a questioning look and in return, the scout shot him one that said he'd tell him later, "personal grudges have no place in the life of a bounty hunter."

"Eh, so I just wanted to know. It is my skidplate on the line, ya know." The yellow mech went back to considering Swindle's question. Why hadn't he just slagged him when he could? Part of him kept telling him that it was because Prowl was right. They needed the two neutrals to survive until they themselves had the skills-and a ship of their own-and resources to make it on their own. Then another voice spoke up that reminded him he'd never been one to follow orders or common sense.

_'That was the old me, though. The old me didn't need to rely on others just to live. As much as I hate it, me and Prowl both need those two rotten slaggers.'_

Sighing, Bumblebee looked at Swindle, faceplates near expressionless as he told the tan mech in a dead-pan sort of tone, "Because it's bad business to kill somebot who's useful." The answer surprised the other gathered mechs including Prowl. Slowly, though, Swindle's mouth twitched upwards into a smirk.

"I knew that kid was smarter than he looked. And speaking of useful," Suddenly, one of the larger mech's arms was around his shoulders, turning Bumblebee around to face Lockdown and Prowl, each of whom were wearing similiar expressions of curiousity, "I've decided I need to start passing on the tricks of the trade, and the scout here is the perfect candidate to be my apprentice. I mean, the kid has to do something around here other than warming up Prowl's berth at night."

Two pairs of blue optics widened and then doubled in size when Lockdown grinnned at Swindle and said as though the decision were final, "Sounds good to me. Just keep the kid out of trouble."

Prowl frowned as did Bumblebee. "Now, hold on a klik."

"Yeah. Who says you two get to decided what I do around here." The scout wriggled away from Swindle's arm and went to stand by Prowl, glaring at the two. Lockdown returned it with one of his own while the other bot kept smiling that damn smile.

"Listen, kid. I'll be blunt with ya. The only reason I'm letting you stay here is because Prowl asked me to let ya live here, and that bot's got the good potential to be a damn fine bounty hunter. I ain't gonna waste that by refusing a request. But," His tone turned dark as he nearly growled, "If you ain't gonna work when it's offered to ya, I don't want either one of you on this ship."

"Take the offer, squirt. I can show you everything I know, and teach you how to use those big optics of yours to your advantage. Those babies are more trustworthy than mine." Bumblebee looked at Prowl, almost as if he were asking for permission or some kind of guidance. He seemed unsure what to say himself.

Lockdown's hook suddenly rested on Bumblebee's arm and both he and Swindle took on identical smirks, their optics flashing. They'd planned this beforehand. Prowl knew it.

"Unless, of course, you want to start sharing the little guy, Prowler." The bounty hunter stated causally, throwing the black mech a smirk and chuckling at the look that crossed his visor. Prowl leapt forward and dragged the scout away from them, glaring at them.

"Fine. He'll do it."

"But-" One look from Prowl silenced whatever protest Bumblebee had. Sighing, the yellow mech nodded his consent to Swindle whose cheshire grin lit up his faceplate once again.

"Perfect! We start tomorrow, Bee." Bumblebee nodded though he wasn't exactly looking forward to his apprenticeship with the arms dealer, the entire idea making him uncomfortable with the thought that he'd be learning how to sell weapons.


End file.
